Mixed Tape
by effleurage
Summary: Bella never liked a guy who's liked her back. She's finally found her groove when a stranger starts sending her mixed tapes. When her assumptions prove wrong, will she send mixed signals to the real man behind the music?  A 90s High School drabble fic
1. Chapter 1

New Year, new drabble fic. I had an idea last night that sounded like something I'd like to read. Here it is: unbeta'd and more or less written "off the cuff". I have no idea how often I will update, but as long as it remains fun, I'll post it.

**Summary: Bella has never liked a guy who's liked her back. She's finally found her groove when a stranger starts sending her mixed tapes. When her assumptions prove wrong, will she send mixed signals to the _real_ man behind the music? High School 1990s fic. ** Rated M for language, situations and possible underage drinking.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

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><p>Jasper Whitlock has the loveliest, trilling whistle I'd ever heard. It's the kind of whistle that any warbler would envy. I complimented his whistling style last year, but James overhead and turned it into some "skin flute" jibe.<p>

I'm getting my books out of my locker when I catch the unmistakable opening notes of Nirvana's "All Apologies". A thrill surges through me and I turn to recognize my comrade in song.

"Oh my God, Jasper! You like Nirvana, too? I gasp.

Jasper stops whistling and breaks into a smile. He's a recent transplant from the Republic of Texas and girls go nuts over his drawl. He's tall and lean with floppy blond hair – definitely easy on the eyes.

"Hell, yeah! I'm buying their Unplugged album afterschool today."

"You are so lucky." Last month, I exhausted all my savings and any advances on my allowance through December when I bought Doc Martens. I've been really into the Seattle grunge look since last year, when I tried to get Peter to notice me. It didn't work, but I have a new found appreciation for the local music scene.

"I could make you a tape, if you want," he offered sheepishly.

"Really?" I squeal. I've gotta curb my enthusiasm or I'll look so uncool. "Cool."

"All right, late'!"

With my back against the lockers, I watch Jasper's retreating form cross campus. Sweet! I cannot wait to get hold of that tape!


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks ladies, for all the hits and alerts. Special thanks to carebear309 & lolafalana71 for your encouragement.**

This is an unbeta'd drabble. Rated M for language, situations and possible underage drinking.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

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><p>"Did you get it?"<p>

"He brought it to school today. Do you wanna listen to it?" The line clicks abruptly and I know Alice has hung up on me. I swear, if anybody else did this to me, I'd give her the silent treatment for a week.

I throw the cordless phone onto my bedspread and try to plot my next move, when raucous banging commences at my front door.

"It's open," I yell.

Alice, my bestie and next door neighbor bursts through the foyer in punk princess glory. She's decked out in this red plaid thing with zippers everywhere and suspenders so long, they touch the backs of her calves. Her hair – well, I won't even go there.

"Do you likey?" she asks, patting her hair.

"Uh, no."

"They're called Liberty Spikes." She shakes her sharp hair at me and it DOESN'T MOVE.

"Do you use some kind of special hair gel, or something?"

"Elmer's glue," she says smugly.

"That's so wrong!" I groan.

"Where's the tape? I need Nirvana, now!" She slaps the vein on her left forearm, asking for her music fix.

I've already got it in my overall pockets and hold it out to her. Alice's eyes light on the tape and she grabs it from me. She makes a beeline for my bedroom and flings her small frame across my bed, reaching for my stereo. She turns up the volume and we wait.

The music that follows is some of the most artless and soulful material either one of us has ever heard. The absence of electric guitars and cacophonous monitor feedback is both a pleasure and a gift. We hear the voice of angels and we hail Cobain.

"Kurt Cobain is a god!" Alice cries out toward the end of side two.

I just stay quiet as the chords reverberate in my chest. In my head, I'm on the MTV soundstage lit with hundreds of candles. He's so close, I can smell him. Trust me when I say, "He don' smell like Teen Spirit.". Alice is wrong: Kurt Cobain is all man.

"Dub me a copy, Bella. You should totally put out for the guy that made you this tape. So _worth_ it!" she wheezes that last part.

The image of me showing appreciation for an audio cassette on my knees is ludicrous. It's more than enough to bring me out of my Cobain lust haze. It hasn't escaped my notice that Jasper bears a slight resemblance to my grunge fantasy guy, but I have more self-respect than that. I hope.

"No, my friend. That is what separates me from Lauren Mallory and the rest of her pack."

"Fine, you hook me up with this guy. I'll score us some more tunes." She has the audacity to flick her tongue ring at me. Ew.

"Just stop already, Deep Throat. I'll ask him tomorrow before fourth period."

"Bells, you my home girl." That biotch gives me a noogie!

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! I hope you'll excuse these girls swooning over Kurt Cobain (R.I.P.) in his unbathed glory. Oh, who am I kidding? Y'all swooned over Hobo Rob, too. A lot of this is from my own memory of high school, circa 1993. It's kinda fun to go back and poke some fun at the teenagers and all the lingo we probably stole from The Simpsons. I'm just sayin'!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, again. I've got another little chapter for your perusal. So sit back and reminisce the 1990s with me. **

This is an unbeta'd drabble. Rated M for language, situations and possible underage drinking.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

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><p>I am not dolling-up today. Just because I'm planning to approach Jasper Whitlock in the North locker hall, doesn't mean that I should dress provocatively for his benefit. Right? My Levis and flannel shirt look okay, I think. Maybe I ought to wear that kohl eyeliner?<p>

"Bella? Are you almost ready?" Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs.

"Hang on!" I grab the black eyeliner and smudge it around my eyes. I think I put it on the right way, but my eyes are watering up pretty badly. Where are the tissues?

I feel my way around my room and make it to the door in a blind walk. At the stair landing, I locate the rail and I manage down toward Mom. With a few hard blinks, my vision is returning to normal.

"Bella, you look like a raccoon! Why do you have black eyeliner smudged all around your eyes? That's not the way to wear makeup."

"Actually, Mom, it is. Seventeen Magazine calls it the 'Grunge Look'."

"Yuck. I'll make you an appointment with Heidi at Clinique next week. That grungy look makes you look strung out."

Thanks and no thanks. I keep quiet on the drive to school because if I open my mouth, I'm bound to start an argument. For better or worse, it's just Mom and me living in Forks. I really don't want to get sent away to live with my dad. He still thinks I'm five years old.

"Bye," she says and kisses my forehead as I exit the car.

Surreptitiously, I swipe the spot with my cuff as she leaves. I scan the parking lot for an audience, but no one seems to have seen me. Not to say that people usually look for me: being invisible is my trademark.

I used to think that being invisible was a bad thing, but more and more, I'm reaping the benefits. Last week, I snuck out of gym right after roll call and escaped doing jumping jacks. Jumping jacks = hurt boobs. I went to the library and holed myself in the classic literature section. Nobody saw me, unless you count a few dust mites.

On campus, I crisscross the quad and head toward the North locker hall. Jasper isn't at his locker, but that's not unusual. He's a Junior and I'm a Sophomore and the only class we've ever shared was Spanish last Spring. I gather my books and walk to Intermediate Art where Alice is waiting for me with her gluey hair.

"Love the eyeliner, Bella," Alice compliments as I sit next to her.

I smile because Alice always tells me the truth about my appearance. Over the summer, she eighty-sixed my bed-head. She says that "you can only get away with dirty hair if you're in a band." I think she should practice what she preaches. I happen to know that Alice can play an electric six-string like nobody's business.

The art teacher takes roll while the room buzzes with chatter. She gets to "Thompson" when the door pushes open, revealing a guy with a mohawk and a leather jacket. I sit up a little straighter in my seat and steal glances at him as he pushes a hall pass toward the teacher.

"Take a seat, Mr. Crowley. Please don't make a habit of being late to my class."

Crowley? Is that Tyler Crowley, champion varsity soccer player and the biggest bad boy at Forks High? Ohmigodohmigodohmigod! He's pulling out a chair at the table in front of me! He's taking off his jacket and underneath, he's wearing a Pennywise tee –shirt. That's an alternative band, right?

"Ouch!" I say a little too loudly. Alice just jabbed me with her elbow, signaling a "hottie alert". She 's a little late.

Tyler, with his magnificent mohawk, turns at my outburst. He looks appraisingly at Alice and then at me. He's looking RIGHT AT ME.

"What's up, Shorty?" he says with a devilish smile.

I can feel my ears burning and I know that my face has got to be beet red. I have to look away, this attention is so embarrassing. Wait, did he just call me 'short'?

He's still looking at me. Now he's chuckling. My 'shortness' must amuse him.

The teacher calls our attention to the front of the room, and Tyler finally faces forward. I look over at Alice, and she just shrugs. Yeah, if anyone is short, it's Alice, not me.

I try to pay attention during Art class, but I can't because I'm swooning over Tyler. Alice does most of the work on our Surrealism project because I'm zoning out. The teacher says something about a dolly and melting clocks, but the only thing melting here is me and my heart-shaped box.

The bell rings and Alice and I wait for the rest of the class to leave the room. I'm suppressing my giddiness, but I know she can read me. When we're the last ones left in the room, she grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me.

"TYLER CROWLEY TOTALLY CHECKED YOU OUT!" she shrieks.

"I know! He's really hot, isn't he?"

"That's one fine mofo."

I have to agree. Not only is Tyler a hottie, but he's also a Senior. Unfortunately, that makes him completely out of my league.

We continue our animated conversation as we walk back to the North locker hall. I have Biology next, and Alice has Geometry. As I shut the locker, Alice gets very quiet. I look up to see Jasper at his nearby locker.

"Hey, Bella. Who's your friend?" Jasper asks softly.

"Ouch!" She jabs me again. Uh, oh. "Jasper, this is my friend Alice. Alice, Jasper."

"Hey." He flips his floppy hair away from his face to reveal baby blues and one of the nicest smiles this side of the Rockies.

Alice looks fairly blue; I think she forgot to breathe. I want to jab her in the ribs, but think better of it. That shit hurts!

"H…hi. You made the Nirvana tape. I love you. – I mean, IT, I love it!"

I look at my friend sideways. Freudian slip much, Alice? I decide to save her.

"We both loved the Unplugged album. _Loved it._ I was wondering if you might have something else we might like? I mean, you've obviously got great music taste and all." Yeah, I guess that's laying it pretty thick.

"You like punk music? Operation Ivy?" he asks Alice.

She nods.

"Aw, well I think I might have something else you might like." His attention returns to me in the moment, but I think he was just asking my best friend what kind of music she liked.

"Great," I say lamely. I've totally forgotten anything else I should say to Jasper, because Alice is frozen in place with a big goofy grin. This time, I go for the elbow jab.

"Ow! You play varsity soccer. I mean, _you play soccer, right?_" My home girl is about as smooth as oatmeal.

"Yeah, I play forward. We have a home game afterschool," he offers.

Alice is so busted. I know where this conversation is leading to. She's setting us up for an afternoon of boywatching. I have a cumulative Bio test on Friday and need to study. There's no way I'm going to be her alibi. Alice's parents are even more strict than my mom about dating boys.

"I've gotta go to class. I'll talk to you later, Alice!" I say pointedly to my friend.

She's not listening to me. Judging by the daze on her face, she's already thinking of ways to thank Jasper for the next tape. Ew, I hope she saved her kneepads from Frosh volleyball.

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><p>AN: So, if you haven't caught on yet, Bella is what probably would've called a "poseur" back in the day. Looking back, I can't believe we labeled people so easily. Teens are just trying to figure out who they are and what they want to be. Sometimes it takes a few tries, (and a few different hair colors, too!) The "genuine DIY punks" and all that just had a little more confident attitude, and confidence is sexy. If you need a little more confidence today, go treat yourself to a new lipstick or buy a pair of red shoes. It's OK, effleurage says so :) What were you like in the 1990s? How would you describe your teenage self?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi, it's me again. I'm still having fun writing this stuff and love hearing back from you. Here is the next installment of Mixed Tape.

Thanks to **radar1230**, **lolafalana71**, **carebear309**, and **k8ln713** for all the support and love. You girls rock! There are probably about 15 people reading this story, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you also to **Emergency Beta Service** on Twitter for great suggestions.

This is an unbeta'd drabble. Rated M for language, situations, mild drug references, an un- PC word that might give offense, and possible underage drinking.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

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><p>I'm not kidding when I say that I need to study for a Biology test. Today, Mr. Banner passes out a comprehensive study guide and I <em>just know<em> my chances of acing this test are next to nil. I'm really good at labs, but memorizing all this vocabulary and theory is my downfall. If James, my lab partner, wasn't such a dick I'd study with him during my free period. Where is the a-hole anyway?

"Where the frick is James Hunter?" I grumble.

"Uhh huhh huh, Beavis? I can't find my bunghole." Stupid Mike Newton does his Butthead impression and most of the class laughs with him. Dumbasses.

"Bella!" whispers Angela, getting my attention. "James Hunter got suspended during Health class today."

"Why? What happened?"

"Seriously Swan! Where have you been? James brought his boombox and blasted 'Baby Got Back' during health and tried to grind up against Rosalie Hale –" Jessica says before Lauren interrupts.

"Yeah, then Emmett McCarty got up in his grill and punched his lights out. SUS-PENDED!" Lauren says triumphantly.

"Which one? Who got suspended?" I ask.

"Both of them! Unless any of you would like to join them, you will take out your notebooks and begin taking notes for pre-lab. Understood?" Mr. Banner makes his presence known at the front of the room.

I glance back at the empty stool next to me, and raise my hand. Surely he will have some mercy on my predicament. Mr. Banner sees me and signals to put my hand down.

"Ms. Swan, this unfortunate turn of events leaves you without a partner, I'm afraid. You may join Mr. Cullen's table."

I look to see where he's pointing. At the back of the room, hiding under a mop of hair and behind horn-rimmed glasses frames, sits Edward Cullen. Until today, I have no idea what his last name is, let alone that he and I share a class. I grab my flannel shirt and backpack and head over to the open stool in back.

"Hey," I say, plunking down.

Edward stops taking notes for a split second to concede to me with a pen wave and _I think_, a miniscule smile. Wow, he's actually shy. I heard someone say that he was homeschooled in Alaska.

" Today's lab, we'll be learning the phases of mitosis. You and your lab partner will share a microscope and a set of slides…" I'm tuning Mr. Banner out because I notice my new lab partner has already filled an entire two pages with notes. Not just any notes, but detailed and clearly legible ones. His _notes_ look like a typed study-guide. It is quite possible that my study woes are over.

"Edward," I whisper, tapping his shoulder.

He jumps up and off his seat, crashing to the floor _Whoa._ Maybe I should reclassify his "shy" as socially retarded?

"Do you think we could be study partners for the Bio test? Maybe we could quiz each other afterschool?"

Edward's glasses slide down. He shoves them back onto the bridge of his nose and pushes his hair off his forehead. A verdant flash catches my surprise at this glimpse behind the lenses.

"I can't, I have to work."

"Oh." _Oh_. I'm not used to getting turned down, especially for something as inane as study buddies.

"I could study with you on Thursday, if you like."

Thursday? That's the day before the test! Still, cramming Bio with Edward will probably be more productive than cramming alone. So, I say "yes".

Edward and I finish the lab super quick, I almost wonder if we forgot a step. I flip my notebook over and doodle on its back cover. Actually, I'm somewhat of a doodle _artiste_. I make awesome bubble letters, cute frogs, hearts and daisies - you name it. Right now, I decide to add the name of a band I just heard on MTV to my inky shrine of cool.

"Green jello? Did the lab make you hungry or something? You want some?" He pulls candy out of his sweatshirt pocket.

They're Now & Later, one of my favorites! I nod gleefully and he places two large pieces in my hand. I unwrap the first one and pop it into my mouth. Mmmm…banana flavor. I'm savoring the candy until something strange happens, and I feel my airway constrict. I'm coughing uncontrollably until Edward whacks my back, and it subsides.

"Are you all right?" he asks concernedly.

"Yeah," I gasp. "I love Now & Laters but some of the flavors kinda catch my breath in a funny way."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I just thought you had the munchies."

Hearing this, I just laugh. What do I look like, _a stoner?_ That's so not me.

"I don't want to eat Green Jellö! It's a band…you know, _Three Little Pigs_?"

A light bulb goes on over Edward Cullen's head and I can see he's making the connection.

"Oh, right! Cereal Killer? You like that kind of stuff?"

Now it's my turn to feel embarrassed. I don't actually own Green Jellö's album. Honestly, I don't even know any other song they sing. But I want to look cool, so I say that I do.

"I wouldn't have guessed that. I probably would've said you liked the Beatles or something."

I feel a slight twinge of sadness when he says this. I absolutely love the Beatles, or I did until eighth grade. My mom and I used to listen to A Hard Day's Night in the car every morning on the way to school. It was our daily ritual until the Red Hot Chili Pepper's Blood Sugar Sex Magik was the must-have album of the moment. I went over to Jessica Stanley's house with a bunch of girls to listen to it.

"Isn't Anthony Kiedis a god?" Jess panted while Under the Bridge played.

"Oh, yeah," we chanted, under the spell.

Angela wrote, "I heart Anthony Kiedis" on the white walls of her Vans with an Eraser-Mate pen. How lame! I wrote "I heart Anthony Kiedis" and "Chili Peppers" on _my Vans_ with a black Sharpie. I was nothing, if not committed.

"So, what else do you like to listen to?" Edward's voice brings me out of my reverie.

"Well, the Beatles are okay. I just like newer stuff, edgier music. It's gotta be modern, like grunge."

Edward wrinkles his nose at me, then whispers, "Sorry."

I just shrug it off. Not everyone has a good music sense like I do. After all, I _was_ the first girl at school to buy the Stone Temple Pilots CD and I'm pretty sure I was the only person from Forks at Lollapalooza last year. I don't ride the wave: I AM THE WAVE.

"It's cool. So you'll study with me on Thursday?"

"Yeah, of course. Where did you want to study? We might be able to reserve a quiet study room at the library."

My mind is racing: studying, afterschool, soccer, a hottie forward with a mohawk!

"How about we meet at the soccer field bleachers? You know, sunshine and fresh air?" Please say yes.

"Um, okay. I guess I can meet you there. You don't think that Thursday's game will be too distracting?"

_Busted! _

"Nah, it'll be fine. I'll see you in class tomorrow, Edward!" I grab my backpack and sprint for the door.

Perfect. My study partner probably knows biology better than my teacher and will help me ace the test, and I've simultaneously set-up the best Tyler scope-out site possible. I deserve a pat on the back… - or _at least_ an afterschool Real World marathon with Alice!

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

Am I the only person whose breath catches whenever she eats banana-flavored Now & Later candy? Probably.

So, once upon the 1990s, a band who named itself after a green gelatin dessert made a claymation music video that became a cult classic. Betty Crocker sued them for using a trademarked name and the band changed theirs to _Green Jellÿ._ Look on YouTube for their Three Little Pigs video. It's pretty campy.

I'm not gonna touch the Beavis and Butthead references. If you're old enough to remember them, I'm sorry. If you never heard of them, I wish I could say the same.

What was doodle-worthy when you were a teen? What concert would've made your year? I love hearing from you! You can find me on Twitter (at) jeneffleurage.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Special thanks to Emergency Beta Service on Twitter: Sleepyvalentina and Akila. Thank you for using your fresh eyes and giving me Wayne's World inspirations._**

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><p>"Bella, he was just calling you a girl," Alice repeats for the third time.<p>

Now I ask, if a guy checks you out, shouldn't he have the decency not to label you short or tall? Or fat or thin? If you label me, you negate me.

"But he said, 'Shorty'. I was sitting down, I mean, could he even really tell?"

Alice smacks her binder against her forehead. We're rehashing our recent Intermediate Art encounters with Tyler Crowley. He manages to say "'Sup?" to us most days, but when he pairs that with the height reference... I'm getting a little fed up with him.

"Just forget it, Bells. Today we're gonna watch the soccer game, listen to good music and there's nothing you can say to take me away from my happy place."

She's right, of course. Today started out cold and cloudy, but sunshine developed toward the end of 5th period class. It's a great day for scoping out soccer hotties like Tyler Crowley. Alice will be too busy looking out for Jasper, though.

It's a funny thing, but earlier today, Jasper goes looking for me at Alice's locker. When he finds us, he pulls out my new mixed tape and hands it to Alice. She reaches for it, even though he's still holding on. He's speaking so low, I can't hear.

"Ahem. Thank you for the tape. I'm sure it's cool." I yank the cassette from the two of them.

Jasper looks a bit flustered. "Yeah, um...let me know if y'all like it? I got more at home."

"Like, totally," Alice mumurs. Eyeroll please!

After he leaves, I bitch her out for lapsing into Valley Girl Talk. So uncool.

In my head, I think Jasper's tape is "like, totally cool" too. I've been carrying a Walkman with fresh batteries in my backpack all week since he promised to make one. But since Alice was there when he agreed to make the tape, I hold off on listening to it until lunchtime. - Even if it kills me!

###

"Black Flag, GWAR, Napalm Death, Dead Kennedys, Bikini Kill, Heavens to Betsey?" I say to no one in particular. Edward and I finished our Bio class work ahead of everyone else again today. I'm fidgeting with the mixed tape again, Alice and I only listened to Side A before the lunch bell rang.

"What else is on it?" My partner plucks the case from my hands and scans the play list. His eyes light on something with amusement.

"What's so funny? Gimme that back!" I snatch it away from Edward, possessively.

"Nothing...it's just a strange combination of some really hardcore stuff and...Riot Grrrl."

"Riot Grrrl?" The word sounds strange, tripping from my tongue.

"Yeah, milit- er, female empowerment. Maybe you'll like it?" Boy knows he's walking on eggshells. His cheeks are crimson.

I'm all for girl power and feminism. Just last year, I found Mom's college books down in the basement. I thumbed through Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique and Erica Jong's Fear of Flying. Women should be taken as seriously as men at school, in the workplace and at home. I don't work yet, but when I do...

"...not that there's anything wrong with that!" Edward spews verbal diarrhea.

Ex-squeeze me? Tyler already thinks I'm short, now my lab partner thinks I'm gay! I feel like I'm wearing a nametag that says, "Hello, my name is George Costanza." I suppress the urge to whack Edward with my lab notebook, and defend myself with dignity.

"I like boys."

"You like boys," he repeats slowly. It's hard to tell, on account of his glasses, but his eyes seem a little glazed over.

"Schwing!" someone calls over my shoulder: Newton.

"If you're finished with your work, you should be quietly studying for tomorrow's test," Mr. Banner barks at the class.

Stuffing the cassette into my backpack, I look over at Edward. He's hunched over his notebook, busily writing something indiscernible. His long fingers make deft pencil strokes. He has nice hands with clean fingernails. Nicer than Tyler's, which are kinda grubby.

I whisper, "Soccer field after school?"

His eyes shoot up from the page and he nods quickly.

Good, I want to kick ass on this test tomorrow.

###

"¿Clase, cómo se dicen, 'I study' ?" Sra. Gonzalez asks our Spanish II class.

Jacob Black, who's spent most of the period with his head on his desk, sits up long enough to emit a gigantic burp. Our teacher spins abruptly and narrows her eyes at him.

"¿Jacobo, cómo se dice, 'boring'?"

"Uhhh, burrito?" Jacob snickers and fistbumps Seth.

Sra. Gonzales huffs then concedes, "Sí, correcto."

I look down at my Swatch: three more minutes of this torture before the school day ends. By the time Sra. Gonzalez passes out the homework worksheet, the final bell rings and I'm out the door in ten seconds flat. Alice is already standing by my locker waiting. This is her new routine, since discovering my locker neighbor Jasper.

"Tape," Alice demands, reaching out her palm.

I fling my backpack to the ground and root through the zippered compartment, pulling out the cassette and Walkman. She takes it greedily and kisses the case.

"Al, you can just keep it."

"Bella, I'll give it right back after I'm done," she says with mock exasperation.

It doesn't occur to Alice that I might actually be giving up the mixed tape; it's just occurred to me that I don't actually like any of the music either. There's a lot of screaming and most of the lyrics are really angry-sounding.

"No, I mean it. It's not really my taste...but if you like it, take this sister, may it serve you well."

"Wow, thanks Home Girl."

Jasper hasn't passed through the North locker hall, so we probably missed him. Athletes usually get to leave their last class early on game days. Alice and I scramble toward the soccer field and bleachers. We're not the first ones to arrive.

Jessica Stanley and Lauren perch on Edward's left and right sides, respectively. Both girls have practically swung their legs into Edward's lap. His discomfort is evident as he scooches backward into a higher seat.

"Hey Swan, why didn't you tell us about the Bio study group?" Jessica calls down.

Lauren fusses with her pegged jeans. Shading her eyes, she squints at us, focusing on Alice.

"That freak isn't in Bio. Why's she here?"

Alice juts her hip and puts on her fiercest, "back-off biotch!" expression.

Edward speaks up, "Maybe I should go?"

"Hold on Edward," I say and turning to Alice, "have fun without me."

Alice looks surprised but says nothing, neither do the skank crew. Edward and I walk away from the bleachers and stare straight ahead until we clear a corner. I take a chance to peek at his expression and he's looking at me with curiosity.

"What?"

"You walked away from them, and your friend just now."

"So?"

I can tell that he's trying to say something, but he isn't spitting it out. Maybe he really is shy?

"You left them to study with me...," his voice breaks off and he looks down at his shoes.

We continue into the gym and take the stairs up to the top of the empty wooden bleachers. From this vantage, we can see the girls' volleyball team take their places on the floor. At the top, no one will bother us or even hear us. I fling my backpack off and plop down, gesturing for Edward to follow suit next to me.

"They weren't going to leave, you know? I didn't ask Jess and Lauren to study because those two are dumber than a box of hair. I asked you because you're smart and organized."

Edward chortles and takes off his glasses. Besides the small indentations on the sides of his nose, he has pretty decent facial symmetry. I could almost say that he's good-looking, in a tame sort of way. He could be a back-to-school campaign model if he had a haircut.

"All right, let's review Bio notes. I'll ask you to define some of the words and the processes, then you can quiz me on the second half." Edward takes out his notebook and text.

###

I'm stiff from sitting on gym bleachers for two hours, so I lean back for a good stretch. I'm caught up in a yawn with my arms raised above my head when I notice Edward staring at my shirt. The hem of my baby tee has risen, exposing my belly button. I tug it back down and his attention returns to my face.

"Well, I think I'm gonna ace this test, thanks to you Edward."

"Yeah, I think you're tight...right, right! Er, you'll nail it," he stutters.

I smile and wave goodbye before leaving to find Alice. Outside it's chilly and the sunny day has already gone gray. Back at the soccer field, the boys' team collects their gear, crowding around the coach. I spot Alice in the bottom row bleachers, near the Gatorade coolers.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask.

"I can't hear you. Wait," she says too loudly, touching her earphones. Now she's lip-syncing something like, "ham on the bone."

Oh yes, she's still listening to The Mixed Tape. I had my fill of Jasper's newest tape after listening to "Anarchy for Sale" and "Suck My Left One". Seriously, I thought he had better music taste than this.

Alice hits the stop button and looks at me expectantly.

"Yes?"

I repeat my original question, only to be interrupted by Mr. Cool Tunes himself.

"Hey," Jasper drawls.

"Hey," Alice calls, voice dripping with honey,"this tape is phat."

Ew, she's rolling her tongue against her cheek and licking her lips! She's a shameless music whore. Of course, Jasper's eyes get cartoon-big and he drops down to sit next to her. That's my cue to leave.

"I'm off...like a prom dress," I call over my shoulder.

She doesn't hear me. She's too busy hustling Mr. Cool Tunes to realize that he'll gladly make her a new mixed tape every day of the week - for the rest of the year. Sadly, my opinion of Jasper's good taste in music took a nosedive today. Come to think of it, he's not that cute anyway.

"Whaz up, Shorty?"

Someone is jogging up to me. I can smell the manly sweat emanating from his body. My heart races.

Tyler.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! If I turn around now, my face will be as red as a tomato. If I don't, he'll think I'm dissing him.

"Hi, Ty. What's up?" Hello, Tomato Girl.

"You come to see me play?"

"I'm just... leaving. Bye," I squeak. Being around cute guys makes me tongue-tied.

"You come to my next game, Shorty, and wear my jersey."

He tosses his soccer shirt to me, and I manage to grab it mid-flight. He gives me this chin nod that means either "hello," or in this case, "goodbye." My mouth is hanging open like a fish, but no words escape as I watch him rejoin his team.

I hold up the jersey and can tell that it's the same one he wore today. It reeks, but hopefully laundry detergent will freshen it. Lucky number seven. I don't know why he picked me, but I'm ready to do a happy dance. Could it be my new Wonderbra? "Hello boys, this is Bella Swan and my super bra doing a great service to the soccer jerseys of the Pacific Northwest."

This must be a sign: I'm going to rock that Bio test tomorrow, and I'm gonna rock this soccer shirt at the next home game.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> In Spanish, "Estoy aburrido," (sounds like burrito) means "I'm bored."

Riot Grrrl was a feminist punk rock movement that made a lot of noise in the 1990's. I used to collect Riot Grrrl zines back in the day.

It's been a long time, hasn't it? I posted the last chapter almost a year ago. I revisited this story a few weeks ago, and to my surprise, I had most of this chapter already written 11 months ago! I must have run out of writer's juice at the time. In other news, my other story, This Woman's Work also has another chapter in the works. I have a lot more written actually, but my organization stinks. I'm trying a new program, Scrivener. It's fantastic! It allows me to jump into any part of the story and write. It keeps track of my outline for me, so there's hope for overwhelmed writers like myself. When the chapter is ready, you'll be the first to know. In the meantime, I'll keep writing Mixed Tape as long as it's still fun.


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